“Lady Bothwell does me too much honour,” replied the adventurous knight, “in regarding such a circumstance with the slightest interest. But to soothe your flattering anxiety, I trust your ladyship will recollect that I cannot expose to hazard the venerable and paternal character which you so obligingly recommend to my protection, without putting in some peril an honest fellow, called Philip Forester, with whom I have kept company for thirty years, and with whom, though some folks consider him a coxcomb, I have not the least desire to part.” “Well, Sir Philip, you are the best judge of your own affairs. I have little right to interfere--you are not my husband.” “God forbid!” said Sir Philip hastily; instantly adding, however, “God forbid that I should deprive my friend Sir Geoffrey of so inestimable a treasure.” “But you are my sister’s husband,” replied the lady; “and I suppose you are aware of her present distress of mind--” “If hearing of nothing else from morning to night can make me aware of it,” said Sir Philip, “I should know something of the matter.” “I do not pretend to reply to your wit, Sir Philip,” answered Lady Bothwell; “but you must be sensible that all this distress is on account of apprehensions for your personal safety.” “In that case, I am surprised that Lady Bothwell, at least, should give herself so much trouble upon so insignificant a subject.” “My sister’s interest may account for my being anxious to learn something of Sir Philip Forester’s motions; about which, otherwise, I know he would not wish me to concern myself. I have a brother’s safety too to be anxious for.” “You mean Major Falconer, your brother by the mother’s side? What can he possibly have to do with our present agreeable conversation?” “You have had words together, Sir Philip,” said Lady Bothwell. “Naturally; we are connections,” replied Sir Philip, “and as such have always had the usual intercourse.” “That is an evasion of the subject,” answered the lady. “By words, I mean angry words, on the subject of your usage of your wife.” “If,” replied Sir Philip Forester, “you suppose Major Falconer simple enough to intrude his advice upon me, Lady Bothwell, in my domestic matters, you are indeed warranted in believing that I might possibly be so far displeased with the interference as to request him to reserve his advice till it was asked.” “And being on these terms, you are going to join the very army in which my brother Falconer is now serving?” “No man knows the path of honour better than Major Falconer,” said Sir Philip. “An aspirant after fame, like me, cannot choose a better guide than his footsteps.” Lady Bothwell rose and went to the window, the tears gushing from her eyes. “And this heartless raillery,” she said, “is all the consideration that is to be given to our apprehensions of a quarrel which may bring on the most terrible consequences? Good God! of what can men’s hearts be made, who can thus dally with the agony of others?”